Night 54: Janitor's Closet

[quarter_english]

[From here.]L had expected to have to kick the door open himself, so he appreciated that his companion took the initiative this time; he was less pleased, however, that he had to enter the room first, as he had also entered the stairwell. He held up a hand, to indicate a pause in conversation. Standing against the door jamb, peering around the door

Comments

[quarter_english]

The idea that he and Figaro might have met before, with neither of them having any current knowledge of it, was interesting to L. Before he could remark on it, though, the other man left the room, brushing against him on his way past.

It was easier for him to make a conscious choice to be in close proximity to others than to endure an intentional invasion of his personal space. Edgar brushing past him was a little of one, a little of the other; there was no helping that the area they were passing through was small and cluttered, but L stood aside by instinct, regardless. The accidental touch to his arm and shoulder surprised him. At first, he thought it was only the contact itself that unsettled him; then, he realized that the rising flood of emotion wasn't resentment or annoyance or discomfort. It wasn't as familiar to him as some of those, but part of feeling it was being able to put a name to it: guilt, and he understood, without knowing how, that it was Figaro's--Edgar's.

Part of what he felt was related to the friend Edgar had mentioned. He could see a vivid portrait of a young blonde woman in his mind's eye, and as he experienced it, he recognized her himself: so that was Celes. The feeling was deeper than that, though, rooting him to one spot like an anchor. There was a young man--a brother, Sabin. A father poisoned by outside enemies. A coin, a king. Edgar was the king. He hadn't stolen the throne; neither he nor his brother had wanted it. It was a responsibility he had taken on, a sacrifice. The guilt ran through the chains of governance and the stewardship that bound a good king to his people and to the land. Edgar was trying to be a good king, a good friend, a good son and a good brother.

L paused in the doorway, staring at Edgar, both shaken and fascinated.

His first impulse was to think that what he had just experienced was the function of the device that had been implanted in his brain during the sleep study. Discarding that conclusion was his next step. Edgar hadn't lied to him, and there was no core of evil running through him, either. The revelations weren't accompanied by a crashing headache.

For the moment, it left L at a loss for words. He gave his head a single quick shake, and followed Edgar across the room. The next thing to do would be to touch his companion again, and see what happened--a hand on his shoulder or arm in the corridor, maybe.

[girlsandgadgets]

While waiting for his companion, Edgar peered into the hallway from the door. He was sure he heard voices somewhere in the dark- other patients, if he had to guess. With a quick glance Ryuuzaki's way to make sure he was still following, he stepped into the corridor.

[To here.]